:: Thick Angel Blood :: (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} blackeraser) wrote,@ 2003-10-21 14:32:00 |
|
:: Cross Post From ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif)
unsentletters ::
Dear Mother,
I want you to know that sometimes I hate you. The way you speak. The way you laugh. The way you cry.
I hate it when you drink and I'm the only one who will take care of you when you're falling on the floor.
I hate it when memories of my childhood come back and I remember all those nights you cheated on my father.
Who made you hurt this time? Who wipes your tears when you come stumbling home at midnight?
What does it take to finally draw the line? How many times do you have to hurt me until it finally gets through that you were wrong?
When I was small, I knew the lies. I knew the secrets. I knew the slang. I knew what you thought I wouldn't know.
I was there for everything and yet, you think I don't ... and can't remember.
I was there when you slept with him in the bed across from me in that small, dark room.
I was there the next morning when you lost the twins and I held your hand as you bled all over the floor.
I was there when you would get early phone calls after my father left for work. You would laugh like you were 17 again.
I was there when my father decided enough was enough. He was so angry he broke his hand hitting the kitchen cabinent.
I was there when you packed our things and I screamed I wanted to be with my father.
I was there when you pulled me out of his arms.
Years have passed. Ten to be exact. And like movies they play as if they happened just yesterday.
Stop treating me as though I am you. And as though I will be like you.
How can you become what you despise?
Love,
Your Daughter
unsentletters ::Dear Mother,
I want you to know that sometimes I hate you. The way you speak. The way you laugh. The way you cry.
I hate it when you drink and I'm the only one who will take care of you when you're falling on the floor.
I hate it when memories of my childhood come back and I remember all those nights you cheated on my father.
Who made you hurt this time? Who wipes your tears when you come stumbling home at midnight?
What does it take to finally draw the line? How many times do you have to hurt me until it finally gets through that you were wrong?
When I was small, I knew the lies. I knew the secrets. I knew the slang. I knew what you thought I wouldn't know.
I was there for everything and yet, you think I don't ... and can't remember.
I was there when you slept with him in the bed across from me in that small, dark room.
I was there the next morning when you lost the twins and I held your hand as you bled all over the floor.
I was there when you would get early phone calls after my father left for work. You would laugh like you were 17 again.
I was there when my father decided enough was enough. He was so angry he broke his hand hitting the kitchen cabinent.
I was there when you packed our things and I screamed I wanted to be with my father.
I was there when you pulled me out of his arms.
Years have passed. Ten to be exact. And like movies they play as if they happened just yesterday.
Stop treating me as though I am you. And as though I will be like you.
How can you become what you despise?
Love,
Your Daughter
